There is nothing quite like the joy of Christmas day. My son's big shining eyes on that morning just makes all the rough spots in life suddenly smoother.
He's nearly nine years old this year and though he's had some doubts here and there (and a whole lot of questions about Santa's logistics), he's still a believer. His excitement on Christmas Eve was palpable. And yesterday morning, with its abundance of toys and a stocking full of treats, did not disappoint.
Suffice it to say that thanks to Santa, we now own nearly every cactus-themed item in the Playmobil catalog.
Grandma and Grandpa and his Auntie KO and Uncle M supplemented the Western assortment, thus enabling the pirates to join the invasion (and have a place to dock their sloop).
We emptied our stockings of their tiny little treats (every year, that's my favorite part of the day).
Then, while invasions proceeded apace in the living room, I got in a Christmas Day nap (a tradition that anyone who has been up until 1 am on the 24th deserves to enjoy). We had some snacks in the afternoon.
Our friends the R-K family joined us for Christmas supper.
This is my third Christmas as a single mama; there are still moments in the day when I miss my old life and the promise it once held. But Christmas was rich and happy and for at least one day I lived in the moment.
And the moment was most goodly.